


Double Date

by Cinlat



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Interrupted Date, Mandalorian, Prison Riot, double date disaster, losing a bet, when a heroic inspires a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: Fynta and Noara are stubborn, no one denies that, least of all their significant others. When the men get creative and con the women into trying something new, of course, everything goes sideways.





	Double Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keirra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keirra/gifts).



> This was written after Ume and I decided to purchase Aric and Torian's armor sets in game and run around doing heroics in matching outfits. It led to conversations about how they all came to wear the same armor, which led to theorizing about the amount of resistance Fynta and Noara would put up, and ended up as a drabble. Hope you all enjoy! Noara Starspark belongs to Kunoichi_Ume on Tumble (Keirra on Ao3) who writes a Torian/Jedi Knight pairing that is wonderful. You should definitely go read it if you haven't already.
> 
> Word Count: 1,081

Aric dropped behind the barricade with a sigh, icy eyes cutting towards Fynta. “Got any other brilliant ideas?” She ignored him, choosing to take her frustrations out on the prisoners assaulting the line.

When Torian invited Fynta and Aric along to test Noara’s new armor, the commander had suggested Balmorra. Prison riots had quieted into a brief moment of peace, and there were plenty of cliff faces, ravines, and environmental varieties to put the Jedi’s new beskar’gam through its paces. Not to mention, the prison planet hosted a plethora of creatures that she and Torian could hunt.

“I’m waiting,” Aric growled, letting his irritation bleed through more when human feces splattered the ground in front of their shelter. Who could have guessed that the inmates were waiting for a lull in galactic violence to make another ill-fated escape attempt?

“I’m thinking,” Fynta shot back. She glanced up to see Torian gauging distances between the half wall they hid behind and a desk closer to the action. Though his features were stony, Fynta saw concern in his eyes, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Go, we’ll cover you.”

Torian gave a sharp nod, then bolted while Fynta and Aric rose as one to draw the prisoners’ attention. They were advised not to kill the men, who were mostly armed with primitive weapons and homemade explosives. Which made getting them back under control more difficult. A wounded foe was still capable of killing, especially if they got their hands on a guard’s blaster.

When Torian’s weapon echoed from the right, Fynta gave a relieved sigh and dropped again. From that vantage, he’d be able to better protect Noara, who twirled and slashed in the midst of prisoners, while the rest of them were forced to hang back. Even with her superior fighting abilities, new beskar’gam, and the Force, Fynta knew that the Jedi’s Mandalorian lover would always worry when she got out of his line of sight.

“I’m surprised you’re not out there with Noara,” Aric muttered as he peeked over the barrier. A slight pull at the corner of his lips let Fynta know that her husband wasn’t all that mad about their situation. By now, this kind of thing had become par for the course. “Thought for sure you’d be on her heels when she leaped into the fray.”

Fynta knocked on her new chestplate before responding. “Might be if I weren’t in this osik.”

Aric’s brow lifted. “You lost the bet, and it’s not shit armor. The Republic outfits it’s soldiers a lot better than when you were in SpecForce.”

That had been their ongoing argument. When Fynta led Havoc, she’d secured everyone in her squad a suit of beskar’gam because the stuff the Republic offered was subpar for the forces they took down. Aric assured her that once it became clear that even common soldiers would face Force users on the battlefield, Malcom had put in an order for better quality materials to protect them from Knights and Sith alike. The face of war had changed while Fynta slept, and the galaxy adapted.

Given that Noara had backed herself into a corner on the topic of armor, it had been decided that Fynta should join her Jetii friend in trying something new. Noara had told Torian that she’d wear beskar as long as it looked like his, thinking that he’d never be able to find an exact duplicate. The younger woman’s expression when Torian showed up with a smug grin and chestplate just like his still Fynta chuckle. He’d had it fitted to Noara’s body, and she hadn’t been able to weasel her way out of accepting.

If the Jedi had told Fynta about the dare, she might have been able to warn Noara that Mand'alor kept a smith in her ranks. Which gave Torian access to all the supplies he needed. Not to mention, the young chief had made quite the profit off their haul from Darvannis.

Fynta hadn’t gotten to gloat long. After a solid week of badgering, she’d finally agreed to give Havoc’s gear a try if Aric could find some. She’d forgotten that Kanner was roughly the same size, and when Aric told her who it belonged to, the sadness in his gaze made it impossible for Fynta to refuse. So, here they sat in a firefight, during what was supposed to be a nice, relaxing outing with friends, in matching armor. Fynta figured that as far as double dates went, it certainly didn’t rank with the worst she’d experienced.

A resounding crash pulled Fynta’s attention away from her reverie.  Noara stood in the middle of the room, no longer under siege, with both arms thrust before her. Fynta followed the trail of debris to find four men crumpled against the far wall. The others hesitated, eyeing the thin woman warily. Fynta took her chance to lay down a burst of fire at their feet. Someone signaled the mob to retreat, and they scrambled back into the prison in a flurry of curses and shoves.

Torian reached Noara first, rifle still pressed against his shoulder as he watched their targets through his sight. By the time Fynta and Aric joined them, Torian appeared satisfied with the validity of the prisoners’ flight.

Fynta paced a circle around Noara, brushing at scuffs and still smoking singe marks. “Looks like it held up pretty well.”

The Jedi frowned at each section that Fynta touched. “I wouldn’t have any of them without this armor. It slowed my reflexes.”

“But, it protected your vital organs,” Torian argued in a perpetually calm tone. “Speed can be regained. No so much a kidney or lung.”

Noara huffed and rolled her eyes, but Aric cut off any further argument. “If you ladies are done complaining,” he groused, looking directly at Fynta. She kept her back to him, but felt her husband’s eyes. Fynta wouldn’t give the smug Cathar the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. She stood by her assessment of the armor. It was still osik. “I’d like to have that dinner we were planning.”

“Food does sound good,” Noara added, perking up to the point that Fynta laughed. “And, I’d like to put on some regular clothes.”

Fynta and Torian’s gazes met over Noara’s shoulder, and he nodded. Fynta turned her grin on Noara, letting it broaden until the Jedi narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Fine, dinner in soft clothes, but first, you’re going to have to catch it.”


End file.
